Paying the Price
by daveypandas
Summary: [Oliver Twist] On one dull evening, Fagin leaves Jack and Charlie to mind the house. Both boys decide to have a drink and end up drinking too much and get kicked out. Will they ever be able to gain Fagin's trust?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm aiming this story towards the book. (And no, it's not a lemon or anything too bad.) It's my first Oliver Twist fanfiction without Oliver Twist being in it himself. Lol. All due apologies on that part.

Warning: contains alcohol references and usage. Alcohol is a touchy subject. There aren't many people feel comfortable writing or talking about it. Just to let you know, I'm _not_ trying to encourage it in any way.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any characters in Oliver Twist, not even the Dodger. Charles Dickens, I own nothing of you or your property besides a lousy paper-back book which I love very dearly.

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**Paying the Price**

_By animeartist1_

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The early London evening was young and fresh with a hint of early summer in the air, despite the foggy river and filth. Not many people were about, except maybe several young couples who were on a romantic stroll, the small messy children who played their everyday games in the dirtiest and oldest of public housing, or perhaps some of the men who were temporarily getting out of their houses for an errand or something of the sort.

At one of the places at the bottom of Saffron Hill the Great and near Field Lane was where Fagin and his two best pickpockets were inside, seated around the fire as usual, smoking long clay pipes and sorting out their daily finds on the table. Even though the rest of the gang was hanging around in The Three Cripples pub, Jack Dawkins and Charlie Bates remained at the house. It was slowly darkening outside; Fagin put a halt to everything when he wrapped himself up in an old coat, placed a hat on his head, and said to the two boys, "Tush, tush. I'm going out for awhile on business. I take it that you mind the place, my dear?"

The Dodger took the long clay pipe from his mouth. "We'll take care."

"Like maids," Charlie added.

"Good, boys, very good boys," Fagin said, showing them a grime-coated grin with approval before departing.

Once the Dodger and Master Bates made sure Fagin was out of sight, Charlie asked,

"What'd you think Fagin's up to?"

"I don't know," Mr. Dawkins replied; he resumed smoking his pipe.

"Too bad we don't know how long he's gone." Charlie looked around eagerly as if the wall would give him a particular time. "How dull!"

The Dodger abruptly stood up, walked over to the cabinet, and pulled out a jug of gin and water. "I think I'll need it to keep my gut full," he said, a small smile daintily spreading across his lips.

"Oh joy!" Charlie exclaimed. "Brilliant idea, Jack. I can't see why I haven't thought o' it."

"Well, we can't be off to the pub, right? I say it'll do for a'night." The Dodger uncorked the jug, took out two glasses, and filled each glass up to about three quarters. He returned to where Master Bates was eagerly waiting and handed him a glass of gin and water.

Both of the boys raised their glasses high with a gentleman-like air chanting, "Cheers!" before sipping their drinks down to the bottom; it wasn't long when they refilled their glasses, drank that, and refilled once again.

Soon, both of the boys became drunk. After refilling, they were so drunk; neither of them could stand still for over a minute without falling. The spirits also had a tendency to spread about on the floor every time a glass accidentally tilted, as observed by Master Charlie Bates, who soon fell onto the floor in a giggling fit, merely laughing at his own statistics while Mr. Dawkins tried to converse with him, which wasn't very successful at all, since he was just as drunk as he was. It was a very amusing sight – how the two boys seemed to get by with spinning heads and a stomach full of the alcoholic beverage.

About fifteen minutes later, the Dodger appeared to be playing with his top hat by seeing how many things in the entire household he could fit in it at once as Charlie continued laughing after every item which came in past the hat's brim. It was appalling how much he could really stuff in that top hat of his.

At different times, each tried to get around to the bathroom, only to bump into nearly each and every single wall before really having to go. When Dodger had to go, Charlie toppled into another fit of laughter before passing out and waking once again. Easily, you could tell how much gin and water they've had to drink. And worse, they had forgotten all about Fagin – when he might return. Who knows? It could be any minute now.

The rest of the time was a big blur; the boys were lively as drunk could get them, both to end up toppled onto old sacks, drowsed by the strong spirits which kept their stomachs full. And what had become of the jar of gin and water had rolled into a tight between the dusty floor and old crackled furniture.

Hours passed by. When excitement had gone down and everything was still, the entrance door creaked open and the silhouette of a hunched scraggly man hovered in the doorway – Fagin. His eyes darted from around the room, trying to find any signs of the two he left in charge earlier hours ago, and soon found the two figures lying on separate sacks in a sloppy fashion, sleeping like rocks. Charlie was over on his stomach, his arms outstretched, which were hanging down to the floor as drool slowly seeped from his mouth; and as for the Dodger, he was lying face-up, one hand on his stomach, the other leaning against the edge of the sack, his top hat located several inches past the crown of his head.

Fagin's eyes then came to the glint of the empty spirit jug resting beneath an old cabinet; he hunched over to pick the bottle up. After doing so, he checked the bottle for any more left for himself. To his surprise, it was empty, completely empty. After a reaction of curiosity, surprise, and then anger, Fagin furiously grit his crooked teeth together; he flailed his arms in the air before grabbing both of the sleeping boys by their collars, giving them an alarming (and confusing) wake-up call. The Dodger and Master Bates quickly snapped from their slumber when they saw Fagin angrily grabbing them both by the collar at the same time, hissing terrible threats.

"Speak out you good-for-nothing rotten scumbags! What is there of my gin? Hurry up before I strangle you!" Fagin was about to reach for the knife in his pocket.

Charlie flinched as Dawkins tried to fight Fagin's grasp. "Let go o me you old hag!" the Dodger retorted.

"I don't think so!" Fagin said.

As strong as he was, he dragged the boys to the stairway and sent them both flying down the stairs, stumbling down, bumping into each other, with the Dodger's hat toppling down after them. While Charlie and Jack tried to recover from the hard fall, Fagin threw the empty jar of Gin heading straight for Charlie's head, which could've been fatal if the Dodger hadn't made him duck soon enough. The glass hit the wall and shattered into many pieces.

Following the breaking of the jar, Fagin madly howled, "Don't come back 'ere until you get me five times as much gin!"

As the Jew continued to throw threats and curses at the two, the Dodger quickly grabbed his top hat, tugged Charlie by the sleeve and whispered, "C'mon! Let's go!" They quickly stumbled outside and shut the door behind them.

While both were safe from harms way, Master Bates rolled onto his knees and horridly began regurgitating in a small alleyway; the Dodger patted his back, trying to show a little sympathy, since it was his idea in the first place. When Charlie finished, he wiped his mouth and almost worriedly asked, "Where're we going to lodge?"

"I don't know," the Dodger replied. "Maybe we can see if Bet or Nancy will let us lodge with 'em for a night or two."

"All right."

They knew very well how long it might take to accomplish getting to Bet or Nancy's home, but they leaned on each other for support and carried on to the destination with hopes of finding a place to stay for the night and even bigger hopes to be welcomed back with Fagin and the rest of the pickpockets soon.

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A/N: And that's the first chapter. Feel free to review and tell me what you think. 


	2. A Place to Lodge

A/N: It's been quite awhile since an update, but this story is still going.

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**Chapter II – A Place to Lodge**

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After tottering around in the dark street for some time, Master Charlie Bates and the Artful Dodger made it up the stairway of their destination successfully, hoping that Bill Sikes or Nancy would have the heart to take in two drunk and neglected boys looking for a place to stay for the night, rather than be left out in the cold as Fagin had thrown them out. In one split hesitant and awkward moment, the Dodger quickly knocked on the door. Next, he heard footsteps approaching, then, the sound of Nancy's voice.

"Who is it at this hour?" she demanded.

"It's me and Charlie," Dodger replied.

The door opened; Nancy slightly gasped when she noticed the two leaning for support, or it also might have been Charlie's loss of color. She observed both boys. "Wot has happened to you, Jack? …Charlie?"

Charlie had a rough time trying to tame his spinning head, but he somehow managed to mold small words from his quivering lips, "…We got kicked out."

Dodger said. "We drank too much 'an then Fagin got mad. If you can help us…"

Nancy frowned. "How could you have been so stupid!" She placed her hands on her hips in a very restless manor.

The Dodger never saw that coming; he thought she would at least show a little sympathy. He didn't really know how to respond except, "I really didn't know this would 'appen. But take a look at poor ol Charlie 'ere. Jest for one night, please?"

"Oh, all _right_!" She rolled her eyes. "Only for tonight. I must tell you, though, if Bill doesn't want you here, then, don't expect anything else from me."

"Thanks, Nance. Tis very much a'preciated." He took off his top hat, gently grabbed Master Bates by the arm, and led him into the house, before sitting down on a dusty pallet Nancy was arranging for them.

As the two boys were getting settled in, there was a hard, repeated pound on the door. The next moment, the thick, scraggly form of William Sikes emerged in the house throwing off his coat, and at the same time, ordering, "Get the gin, Nancy, before thirst'll be the death o' me!" His eyes suspiciously darted across to the other room to find Jack and Charlie seated in the corner. "And _what_ the hell are these two doing 'ere?"

Nancy came in with a glass bottle in her arms. She casually replied, "Fagin kicked 'em out."

Sikes's face molded into angry confusion. "Wha' do you mean Fagin kicked 'em out? Why should that give 'em a reason to stay 'ere?" He loudly approached the young pickpockets. "Kicked out by Fagin, eh?" he curiously growled.

"Yeah," said Dodger. "We drank a little too much 'an Fagin got mad. He threw me 'un Charlie out. Nance said we could lodge 'ere for a night."

Cold, deep laughter lunged out from Sikes's throat in bursts. It was enough to make the hair on everybody's neck stand up. "Finally made Fagin mad 'eh? Ha! Ha! Ha! Just for 'at, you can stay here – but for one night only! Stay longer 'an I'll kick you out m'self!"

Dodger nodded as Sikes left the room, slamming the old, wooden door behind him. The room was pretty much empty besides a table, on top of it a candle, and a fireplace with a dying fire. The boys sat on the pallet Nancy had arranged for them; Charlie was huddled up, shivering slightly. The Dodger tended to the fire; afterwards, he got back to the pallet, and covered himself and Charlie with a blanket.

"I hope it gets warmer in 'ere…though we've only got several hours till daylight," Artful commented.

Charlie was still shaking from the cold. "I feel a little better. I wasn' as nauseous as I was, Jack…"

"I'm really sorry a'bout this, Charlie..." He sighed. "Let's jest hope t' morrow'll be better. I guess we'll 'ave to picket Fagin s'more gin." He laid on his side as he softly smoothed his companion's hair with his fingers, since it was a little disheveled.

After a little while, he muttered, "Charlie?"

"Hmm?" he faintly said.

There was a small moment of silence, and Jack Dawkins completely forgot what he was going to say.

"Never mind."

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A/N: I didn't have much time to go over it as much as I wanted to. So if you see a small mistake, try to pay no mind to it.

Master Bates sounds extremely funny if you say it quickly (or as one word 'MasterBates')…I don't know how Dickens came up with that name. ;)


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